<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cornucopia by PTWL</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166549">Cornucopia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTWL/pseuds/PTWL'>PTWL</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort No Hurt, Domestic Fluff, I have 0 excuses for this, I'm back with the sappy domestic retirement fics, M/M, Many mentions of food, Post-Game(s), Retirement, That's a tag now, severely underweight character getting healthier?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:53:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTWL/pseuds/PTWL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a man in the water. He isn’t drowning but his eyes are hazy and heavy from sleep. Not from inebriation, truly a surprise. The scars on his face feel familiar but the thin layer of healthy fat filling his cheeks is an unexpected addition. Cartilage healed poorly, an odd look in a man like this one. Even in the water, his hair is ruffled from sleep, tips curling slightly just like mother’s or Jane’s. Age began to claim it long ago, in a slow but unrelenting pincer attack. Since when has he looked so much like them?</p>
<p>[...]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crusader/Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cornucopia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is me back to my bullshit with shameless retirement fluff because I'm basic and predictable.<br/>I forsook the ten thousand WIPs I have in my docs to write this in 3 hours. This is the fastest I've written anything in a long long while.<br/>Hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a man in the water. He isn’t drowning but his eyes are hazy and heavy from sleep. Not from inebriation, truly a surprise. The scars on his face feel familiar but the thin layer of healthy fat filling his cheeks is an unexpected addition. Cartilage healed poorly, an odd look in a man like this one. Even in the water, his hair is ruffled from sleep, tips curling slightly just like mother’s or Jane’s. Age began to claim it long ago, in a slow but unrelenting pincer attack. Since when has he looked so much like them?</p>
<p>When Dismas runs his fingers through his hair, checking it has grown considerably longer than he often cuts it, cleaner and smoother than he ever remembers, so does the man. Dismas rubs the sleep away from his eyes with the water from his washbasin and, suddenly, the man is gone. When did any of this happen? When did his stomach shift so much that the smell of freshly fried bread first thing in the morning makes him salivate instead of giving him an awful case of morning sickness?</p>
<p>Some things remain the same though, somehow. His barefoot steps remain silent as the sneaks behind his mark’s back. There is no muffled choking in blood, only a quiet hum in acknowledgment and a “Just a few minutes longer.” as he traps Reynauld’s middle between his arms. With his ear to the back of his large ribcage, his voice is a pleasant deep rumble that could almost set him to sleep once again. A man has got to earn his bread though and Dismas is a respectable denizen now, in spite of the many attempts he has made against that career throughout his whole life.</p>
<p>At some point after opening his workshop, Dismas, who always harbored a deep distaste for everything sweet, began to fancy the bittersweet taste for the dark oak honey from the honeycombs he purchases often as materials. Even earlier than that, he forsook his old tradition to swallow his black coffee as soon as possible to bask in the feeling of holding a warm cup between his hands. Even the slow creak of the wooden boards beneath his feet brings some small comfort.</p>
<p>Is this hunger he feels all of the starvation he has gone through since he was born coming back to him in his late forties? He still eats in moderation, no more than a man his age and size should. But the morning scents of fried bread and freshly ground coffee, the knowledge that there is honest coin in his pockets, the clucking and bleating coming from their modest barn, the summer buzzing of non-monstrous sized insects, and his head still foggy and warm from a full night of sleep beside someone who truly wants to lay by his side… For the first time in a lifetime, he is full and content. Healthy and with far more color in his face than ever.</p>
<p>Later, when he breaks a honeycomb to take a small bite from it, Dismas can feel a heavy gaze setting on his nape from the doorway joining his workshop with the house. Or it is the reek of sweat and manure. He doesn’t even need to turn around. It isn’t gemstones and castles and the richest liquor coin could ever buy, no velvet or halls of gold, but that mouthful still tastes of opulence. And mayhaps there is no wrong in watering the man in his washbasin with it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm glad you've read all the way to here!<br/>One of the reasons I'm so utterly obsessed with retirement fics is A Day by MnM_ov_doom (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541261/chapters/25913985). Please, go check it out. That work has a special place in my heart.<br/>Actually, a really close friend of mine made a Dismas doddle and gifted it to me just yesterday. It has been living in my head rent-free since then. He looks so fluffy and lovely, clean for once and not his usual malnourished rat-man self. It got me thinking about Dismas being taken aback by how healthy he looks in a wishful happy-ending future. I wanted to gift this fic to her but she doesn't have an ao3 account so, instead, I'll link you to her Twitter art account, @tharasia_art (https://twitter.com/tharasia_art)</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed this fic! Please, remember that any sort of feedback makes writers more powerful!</p>
<p>(P.S.: I tried to actually link those but it wasn't working very well. Hope you don't mind. Please, could someone let me know how do linking works in ao3? Thanks in advance!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>